Pain Management - One Shot
by Discordia81
Summary: Edward Cullen has been suffering from chronic migraines for almost five months when he's sent to Jasper Whitlock, massage therapist. Strict lines between them blur as Jasper attempts to help Edward manage his pain and find a little relief. Slash.


This was my entry for the** Slash/Backslash 4.0 Contest. T**hanks to the organizers and judges: avioleta, Capricorn75, donnersun, Chicklette, Prassacut, Ms. Ambrosia, and MBMassin.

The story didn't win, but the banner received** Public Choice Winner in the Art Category!  
**

**A/N:** I did the best I could to make this story as accurate as possible, but I'm no expert on pain management. I do know someone who had chronic migraines that lasted for almost six months.

Massive thanks as always to my incredible beta, Karenec. I know she was excited that I'm finally dabbling in slash. This one's for you, baby! *smooches*

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**Pain Management**

The man who walked into the room was wound tighter than anyone I'd ever seen. I could feel the pain and frustration that rolled off of him. His posture was stiff and there was no fluidity to his movement. His jaw was clenched, making the lines of his face even more pronounced than they would have been at rest. His mouth turned downward and the grayness of his skin spoke of someone who had reached the end of his strength. He gave me a short, terse nod as he came in the door and Alice, the bubbly Physical Therapist I called my best friend, followed behind him.

"Jasper, this is Edward Cullen. I know you looked at his file earlier, but just a quick reminder, he's dealing with chronic migraines. He's had little to no relief over the last five months. We've been treating him in a variety of ways; he just finished his session with me, and Dr. Harper has suggested bi-weekly massages as an additional treatment."

She turned to look at Edward. "I'm going to leave you in Jasper's capable hands. I promise, by the time you leave here, you'll be a puddle of goo. He's our best."

Edward nodded, his grim, stony expression lightening for just a fraction of a second as he looked at her. She beamed at him like he'd praised her effusively. "I'll be back in an hour, Edward."

Alice shut the door quietly behind her and Edward and I were left in the dimly lighted room. I'd been working at the Woodbridge Pain Clinic for years, and I had never seen a patient look as stiff and miserable as the one in front of me. I didn't have migraines, but my sister did, and I knew what havoc they could wreak on the system. Chronic migraines were debilitating. Five months of constant pain would wear anyone down. The man in front of me looked on the verge of breaking.

I held my hand out to him and smiled reassuringly. "Edward, my name's Jasper. I've been a massage therapist for eight years now and here at Woodbridge for six. I can't promise that it will end your pain completely, but I do promise that I will do everything I can to give you some relief."

He nodded, shook my hand firmly, and growled out a quiet, "Okay."

"I am going to need you to remove your shirt, socks and shoes. You can keep your shorts on. Would you like me to leave the room?" I asked him.

"No." His second reply was even more terse than the first. I tried not to take it personally and gestured for him to proceed.

Even removing his shirt looked like it took effort and his mouth turned down in a firm frown as he settled himself on my massage table.

"Would you like soft music, or will it bother you?" I asked him quietly.

"Leave it off," he growled.

"I am using unscented oil so as not to exacerbate the migraine. I'm going to begin now," I told him, keeping my voice low and making it as soothing as possible. Despite my warning, and the warmed oil, he jerked when I touched him. I began very lightly, using long, sweeping strokes to get him accustomed to my touch.

"Have you had massages before?" I asked quietly.

"Yes."

Deciding that he did not want to have a conversation, I closed my mouth and focused on his muscles. He was a good couple of inches taller than my height of six-foot even, with a broad, long back. My first impression was that he was strong, but as I assessed him further, I realized that although he had been quite muscular, he'd lost weight recently. The protrusion of his bones was more pronounced than it should have been. Then again, constant pain probably prevented him from working out and the nausea and vomiting that often accompanied migraines meant he wasn't eating like he should.

My goal was to relieve his stress, tension, and hopefully some of the pain.

I began gently and slowly worked my way up to firmer pressure. His skin was soft and smooth and as I worked my way up and down his torso, I found myself admiring the way his broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist. He let out a grunt of pain when I hit a knot below his shoulder blades and I carefully worked over that area. As the muscle finally loosened, he sighed with relief and I felt the tight set of his shoulders begin to relax. Finally, we were making progress.

I spent a long time working on his shoulders and neck; migraine patients often found relief when the pressure points there were relaxed. Tension in the neck and shoulders led to decreased blood flow that exacerbated the migraine. The sounds he made when I worked the spots right at the base of his skull made me grit my teeth. They were low, throaty sounds of pleasure that sent a jolt of arousal to my cock. It certainly wasn't rare to make patients moan, but my reaction to Edward's noises was a little startling. Normally, I had no trouble thinking of the patient clinically, even the attractive guys.

I spent the rest of the massage in agony, trying to will away my erection and when that didn't work, trying to make sure I didn't bump it against Edward. I ended the massage with slow, relaxing strokes of my hand over his back, noticing the difference in the way he laid on my table. The rigidity in his body was gone, and the gentle curve of his spine was more apparent. His arms were no longer rigidly at his sides, but loose and relaxed.

"You're all set, Edward. Please, take a moment and then get up very slowly and incrementally. The last thing you want is a head rush. When you're up, put on your shirt, and I'll take you out to Alice."

He didn't answer, and I turned to wash my hands. When I was done, I was pleased to see that unlike some patients, he actually listened to my suggestion. When he was fully upright, with his feet on the floor, he did an experimental roll of his neck. It was slow, and easy, but I could see that he was moving far more fluidly than he had before the massage. He looked up and his eyes met mine. I realized they were a beautiful shade of hazel: dark olive green around the outside and more golden toward the center. His skin was fair and his formerly colorless cheeks were flushed. His reddish-brown hair fell over his forehead as he stood.

"Alice wasn't kidding," he said.

"Did that give you some relief?" I asked.

He nodded and I noticed that the drawn, pinched look around his eyes had faded some. "Quite a bit, actually."

"Just to warn you, it probably won't last. Some patients get as much as twelve to twenty-four hours of relief, but that's rare."

"Shit, ten minutes feels like heaven," he groaned.

I tried not to let the sound affect me, but it was impossible not to. The erection I'd been keeping more or less under control for the last few minutes rapidly sprang back to life. I grabbed the covering off the table and held it in front of me. The navy blue scrubs I was wearing would do nothing to disguise my hard-on.

"I'm glad I could help you out," I said sincerely, and he nodded gratefully at me.

"Me, too."

He put on his shirt on and once he was fully dressed, I opened the door. Alice was waiting outside. "Was I right?" she asked eagerly.

Edward nodded, and a small, crooked grin lifted the corner of his mouth. "You were. I've never been in better hands."

"What was your pain level before the massage?" she asked. "Scale of one to ten."

He grimaced. "Twelve."

She shot him a rueful grin. "Now?"

"Four, maybe."

I nodded, agreeing with his assessment. I could easily see the difference in him.

"Wonderful. I'll let Dr. Harper know, and make a note in your file. I have some additional PT related things you can try at home. Unless you have any questions, you're all set, and we'll see you next Thursday."

"I'm good. Thanks, Alice. Jasper." He took the paperwork from her, nodded at both of us and walked out the door to the reception area for check out.

Alice pulled me in to the massage room, plunking herself down on the table. "Well done, Jasper. I think that's the most I've seen that man smile in weeks."

"That was a lot of smiling?" I said, rather aghast. He had loosened up at the end, but it wasn't like he'd walked out grinning.

"For Edward it was. Poor guy, he's been struggling. I've only seen him in pain, but even in the last two months, he's gotten substantially worse. I wish there was more they could do for him."

"He's had a migraine for five solid months? No relief at all?"

She shrugged. "I think he said the lowest it ever got was a five, and most days, hovers around seven to eight."

"Damn," I muttered. "I can't imagine that."

"I know. It's wearing on him. He's lost weight recently, and I know he's depressed. Dr. Harper is sending him to Bella, so she can help him cope with the depression and stress. Also, Dr. Harper's hoping Bella can find any underlying issues that might be triggering the migraines, and help Edward deal with the incredible amount of pain meds he's on. She has to keep an eye on it to make sure he's not becoming dependent."

"How is it going?"

"Fine, I think. Her case notes are positive and he doesn't seem to have a problem with her. Doesn't appear to be abusing the Fentanyl patches, either, so that's good."

I nodded. Dr. Isabella Swan was tough, and some patients didn't like the way she pushed them to confront their issues. Edward seemed a bit prickly and I could see them butting heads. There was no one better to help him though; she was fantastic.

"If he's been coming here that long, why did they wait so long to try massage?"

"Dr. Harper initially thought it was an environmental trigger. Now he's leaning toward a pinched nerve. It's kind of a crapshoot with these headaches, I think. They just experiment until something finally works."

"Well, I hope the massage does it for him."

Alice snickered. "Does he do it for you?"

"Alice," I scolded her, tossing a hand towel at her that she batted away easily.

"Come on, patient or not, the man is hot. And I know he's your type, Jasper."

I grinned at her. Edward _was_ my type; a body like his, and deep, soulful eyes got me every time. "Fair enough. But it doesn't mean I'm going to do a damn thing about it."

"He won't be a patient here forever," she said philosophically. "Slip him your number on his way out. Or slip him something else."

She winked at me and I threw another towel at her. That one caught her by surprise, hitting her squarely in the face.

"Alice Brandon, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. I know you'd never risk your job for something like that."

She laughed, "True. Although I might have if Garrett had been my patient."

Garrett and Alice had been together for years, and I suspected he wasn't far from proposing. They were a great couple and we socialized fairly often, along with Bella and her husband, Liam. I was seeing a guy named Riley, although it wasn't very serious. We'd been casually dating for a few months and while I liked him, I wasn't sure it was going anywhere either.

I shook my head at her. "Besides, how do you know Edward is gay?"

She shrugged, "I don't know for sure: just got that impression. He's pretty closed lipped, but I saw him give Emmett a glance that was very appreciative."

Emmett was very nice to look at. He was another PT here at the clinic, but if Edward was gay, he was barking up the wrong tree. Emmett was married to a blonde-bombshell named Rosalie.

I shrugged. "Well, no matter how hot, or gay, I'm not risking my job for him."

When Edward returned on Thursday, he was as withdrawn and haggard as before. His attempt at a smile came out more like a grimace.

"Bad again?" I asked softly, and he nodded.

"How long did the relief last?" I asked.

"A few hours. I went home and took a nap; it's the best sleep I've had in a long time, and my pain was at a seven when I woke up, which is better than it has been. But it got a lot worse over the next few days."

"Worse than before the massage?"

"No, just back to where it had been lately."

"I wish it had done more," I said and he nodded, acknowledging that he knew we were doing everything we could.

He stripped out of his shirt, shoes and socks and got comfortable on the table. Again, I found my hands itching to touch his skin, to caress him rather than massage him. It was a battle to keep my hands from wandering to his firm thighs, to the softly rounded curve of his backside. I wanted my lips on the mole just below his hairline and my body pressed tightly to his. His sounds made it that much worse. I could imagine him under me, moaning in my ear, his body moving eagerly against mine. I was sweating by the time the massage was over and my hands were shaking.

It appeared to help him as much as it had the first time, and he gave me a small, grateful smile before he left. I dashed to the employee bathroom and locked the door, grateful that it was a single-stall room. My shaking fingers fumbled for the ties on my scrubs and yanked them down along with the boxer briefs I was wearing. My hand was on my cock before I could think twice, and I pictured Edward in my bed, laid out for me to touch in any way I wanted. It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for me to come in my hand; shaking and shuddering, my lip bloody from where I'd bit down on it. My chest heaved with exertion and my head thudded against the bathroom door, torn between relief and horror that I'd jerked off at work.

In the weeks that followed, Edward repeated the same cycle, relief from the massage, and then a return to the same level of pain. I was in a similar vicious cycle; I was in excruciating pain after I massaged him, and found relief when I went home and jerked off. I managed to avoid it at work again, but it was a struggle.

The more Edward relaxed with me, the more vocal he became and the harder I got. I had never heard a man make sounds like he did. I was as much of a fan of porn as the next guy, but often the sounds were a complete turn-off to me. Fake moans left me cold. I'd been known to mute it, and put on music instead while I watched. But, if any of the guys in the videos had sounded like Edward, it would have been the best soundtrack in the world. There was something about his harsh breathing, quiet moans and the occasional growl of pain that made me feel like I'd been given a high dose of Viagra.

Alice teased me about it mercilessly, gleefully taunting me. It was a good thing I loved her, because she wasn't making my life any easier. She had a total fetish for gay porn and loved telling me all about her dirty Jasper and Edward fantasies. Coming from anyone else, it would have weirded me out, but Alice and I just worked. If it hadn't been for the annoying little issue of gender, I probably would have married her; she was the other half of my soul. As it was, she just wasn't the other half of my heart. She'd met hers in Garrett, but I was still waiting to find mine. In the meantime, we giggled at all the naughty fantasies about Edward we could possibly come up with, and then felt guilty for objectifying a patient.

For both of our sakes, I desperately hoped that Edward's migraines let up soon; we were both on the verge of breaking now. Him from pain, me from desire. Every hour he was on my table was excruciating. The need, the desperate hunger to taste him, touch him, feel his body against mine; they wrecked me. I wanted to devour him whole. I grew accustomed to the taste of blood on my tongue as I worried my lip to keep from doing all of the things I fantasized about.

One day after his massage, he lingered. After he was dressed, he leaned against the table and rubbed at his head. "Fuck, I wish I could come in for a massage every day. It's the only thing that's giving me any relief. I'd pay out of pocket."

"I can't," I said sympathetically. "I would try to fit you in, but my schedule is booked."

"I know. I tried to get them to schedule me for it, but they said you had no available slots."

"We're all pulling extra shifts to cover for a massage therapist who is on short-term disability for a broken arm."

"I get it. It's just…fuck, I don't know how much longer I can do this. Can you suggest anything?"

I frowned and thought for a moment. "Someone at home could give you a massage. It wouldn't be as therapeutic, but it would be soothing."

He shook his head. "There isn't anyone. I live alone. As it is, my mother has had to rearrange her whole schedule just to get me here every day, and then back home. I can't drive. Either I'm on the Fentanyl patches or my head hurts too fucking bad to even think about operating a vehicle."

"Shit, I'm sorry," I said. "How does that affect your job?"

Edward shrugged. "I'm a writer. I did pretty well with my last book, and it came out just before the migraines hit, so I'm okay for now. I can't focus to write like I need to. But I have enough money to get by until I can write another one. My publisher is eager to see something, but I have another few months until she'll be on my case."

"That's good," I said. "It has to be so frustrating for you to deal with, though."

He sighed. "I'm getting used to it. No social life, no work; nothing but this goddamn headache, day in and day out and it's starting to feel normal. I don't feel like myself any more."

"I can't imagine," I said sympathetically.

"Count yourself lucky that you've never had to deal with it."

I nodded. "Let me think about some other things you could do at home, on your own."

He nodded. "Thanks, I appreciate it. I know I've been a bear to all of you."

I shrugged. "You're fine. You're a bit surly, but never actually nasty to us. Not like some patients."

He gave me a wry smile. "Should that make me feel better or worse?"

"Better. Some of those people aren't in half the pain you are, and definitely not for as long."

"Thanks, Jasper." He touched my shoulder on his way out the door and I sucked in a breath at the feel of his warm skin through the fabric of my scrub top. I wanted to push the door shut and kiss him up against it. I wanted to feel the scruff on his jaw under my tongue, taste the salt of his skin as I drove in to him.

When he was gone, I scrubbed at my face with my hands, utterly spent. How much longer could I go on like this? I hated to turn Edward over to another therapist, but what could I do? I had never, ever reacted to a patient like this, and it was going to get me in trouble if I wasn't careful. That night I didn't jerk off to the memory of his hot skin beneath my hands. I wanted to pretend that I was somehow in control of this wild desire that had taken over me.

A few days later, after his massage, I made a suggestion to Edward. I'd thought of it in the middle of the night when I was tossing and turning, trying to will away a downright pornographic dream I'd had of him.

"There is something you can do at home. Buy some foam rollers. You can get them online or in stores that carry yoga mats and Pilates equipment. They feel great. They're a pain in the ass to get used to initially, but once you get the hang of it, it's the closest thing you can get to a massage without another person there."

"Jesus, I need one of those for my dick. It's been so long since I've gotten off," he muttered.

"I think they're called fleshlights," I said dryly before I could stop my mouth.

Edward made a face.

"Actually, you're on to something there," I said and he raised an eyebrow.

"I need to buy a fleshlight?" he said skeptically.

"Not unless they do it for you. I was thinking more generally along the lines of sexual activity. The endorphin release could do you a world of good."

Edward shrugged lackadaisically. "I have so little desire to take care of that right now. I feel the desire initially, but it seems like so much work to make myself come. It's fucking sad when you don't even have the ambition to jerk off. These headaches just take over my entire goddamn life."

"I know," I said sympathetically. "That's where a girlfriend or partner would come in. As long as you have the initial desire, they can take care of the rest."

"I don't have a _partner_, currently," he said, and I felt a thrill run through me at his emphasis on the word partner. "It's difficult to meet someone when you just want to curl up in a ball and die. The person I was seeing wasn't interested enough to stick around while I felt like shit."

"I'm sorry," I said.

Edward shrugged. "Like so many things, I'm getting used to it."

He sighed, stood up and walked over to the door. "Thanks for the help. I appreciate it."

"Anytime."

He left, and I closed my eyes for just a moment, fighting the nearly unbearable urge to run after Edward and offer to help him out with his problem.

At his next session he was as tightly wound and miserable as ever.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"Same as always," he growled, then sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Sorry, Jasper."

"It's fine," I said soothing, touching his shoulder gently.

After his shoes and socks were off, he removed his t-shirt and tossed it on the chair beside the door. "I tried your suggestion, by the way," he said casually, and my heart stuttered in my chest.

"You what?" I said hoarsely, picturing him jerking off, his come landing on his pale, firm stomach, his head thrown back in pleasure.

"I bought those foam roller things you were talking about. They got here last Friday. I ordered them online," he said.

He got comfortable on the table and I took a moment to let my heart rate return to normal. Jesus Christ, that was not what I thought he was talking about at all.

"Right. How'd they work for you?" I finally asked, beginning his massage.

"They're okay," he said, his voice muffled by the table. He lifted and turned his head so he could speak more clearly. "You were right; I nearly killed myself trying to figure out how to use it without having it fly three feet away. But it felt good once I got the hang of it. Not as good as your hands though."

He winked at me and I gulped, hoping he couldn't see the rapidly rising erection in my pants.

"Actual measurable relief?" I asked, trying to keep my thoughts clinical.

"An hour or so. I tried it again right before bed and it was enough for me to fall asleep and actually sleep pretty decently."

"Good."

I looked down and was a little surprised by where my hands were. I had been focusing on his lower back and not paying attention like I should have. My fingers had slipped beneath the waistband of his athletic shorts and my thumbs were positioned right on the dimples just above his ass. My fingers tightened involuntarily and he groaned. "That feels so fucking good."

"Do you carry a lot of tension in your lower back?" I asked.

"Can't you tell?" Once again, his voice was muffled as he pressed his face into the table and I breathed in and out, trying to resist the wild impulse to see just how nice the gentle curve of his backside would feel against my palms.

"Mmhmm," I said distractedly.

"Keep doing that," he groaned. I felt my heart thud in my chest. He'd just given me the go-ahead to spend as much time as I wanted on the delicious spot at the base of his spine. As long as I ventured no lower, and managed to keep from licking a trail up his spine from the top of his ass to his neck, I'd be all right. It was going to be a struggle though.

After a thorough massage of the area, I made my way back up his spine to the base of his skull. I gently instructed him to turn his head to the side and worked on several spots there. I didn't realize my mistake until he turned to the other side and I realized that his lips were just inches from my thigh. I could feel the warmth of his breath and I shuddered, wanting to press closer to him, feel his mouth on me. I looked down to see him licking his lips and I knew there was no way he could miss the way my cock strained against the thin fabric. I wondered if there was a damp spot gathering at the tip. I wanted to see his tongue flick out to taste it, feel the hot wetness of his mouth as he sucked it through the cloth. We both groaned. My hands fell to my sides as he flipped over onto his back. His eyes were still on my cock and I saw him lick his lips before his eyes met mine.

I backed away, afraid that if I got another whiff of the clean, light scent of his soap and shampoo I'd do something that would get me fired.

"Jasper," he said hoarsely.

"Yes." My voice was rough and gravelly sounding, desire making my hands tremble and my body flush.

"I know I'm not at some sleazy massage parlor. I shouldn't be asking you this-" he drew in a ragged breath- "but I'm begging you. Can you help me out?"

My eyes travelled down his body to see his cock tenting the thin fabric of the loose shorts he was wearing. I sucked in a deep breath, completely unable to answer his question. I had been wondering this whole time if Edward found me attractive. There was my answer.

It wasn't like I thought I was unattractive. I'd had any number of male and female patients subtly, or not so subtly hit on me. And the guys I'd dated over the years had been very appreciative of my body. With a wiry, toned build, I had no trouble attracting people. Soft brown hair, green-ish blue eyes and dimples rounded out the appeal, and I considered myself handsome enough. I just didn't know if I was Edward's type. The way he used the word partner rather than girlfriend led me to believe that Edward was gay, but I hadn't know for sure. I had a much better inkling now, although I couldn't rule out the possibility that he was bi. Either way though, he was clearly attracted to me: I just had to find a way to let him know I was interested, but that I couldn't act on it while he was my patient.

"Fuck." Edward's muttered curse snapped me from my thoughts and I saw the horrified, uncomfortable look on his face. "Never mind. That was way out of line. I'm just…really fucking attracted to you. My dick has been on board since I saw you, even though my head made it impossible to do anything about it. I didn't mean to offend you. I know you're a professional, I was just hoping that since the attraction was mutual and you mentioned that sexual release could help…I guess I took it too far. Sorry."

He struggled to sit up and I stopped him by placing my hand flat against his chest. He stilled, and his lips parted but he didn't speak, as if he was waiting for me to say something. I could feel the frantic beat of his heart and the electric tension in his body.

"I'm not offended," I said lowly. "I'm flattered. Hell, incredibly turned on just thinking about touching you like that. But I've worked long and hard to get here, and any kind of inappropriate activity could jeopardize my career."

His face softened and he relaxed back against the table. "I know. I shouldn't have said anything. Although, if it's any consolation, Alice is outside the door and she'll ensure no one comes in."

I raised an eyebrow at him, surprised that Edward had plotting with Alice like that. "You planned this?"

"Kind of. I just…I need this, Jasper. For a lot of reasons. The thought of relief from the migraines is pretty damn appealing, but beyond that, I just want to be touched. I haven't been with anyone since this started. I'm a goddamn hermit and I'm becoming surlier by the day. My family is frustrated with me, my friends are sick of me telling them I can't go out and I feel so hopeless most days. I'm starting to wonder how much longer I can go on like this." His voice and emotions were raw and I felt an answering sympathy in my body.

I knew isolation and hopeless like that could do a number on someone, especially in conjunction with chronic pain. I realized my hand was gently stroking his chest, fingertips caressing the little bit of chest hair he had and it tickled my fingertips as I traced the line it made down his belly. I licked my lips involuntarily.

"You look like you want to eat me up, Jasper," Edward whispered and I let out a funny little huffing breath of frustration, because it was exactly what I wanted to do.

Edward continued, "I would never tell anyone what happened. Just give me this, please. I don't care what you do. Just touch me, make me come. Make me feel alive again."

His broken, whispered plea broke the last of my resistance. In a daze, I reached down to touch the hard cock straining up at me through the nylon of his shorts. He hissed in pleasure and I ran my thumb over the tip, feeling the wetness there. His lips were parted and his breath was quick and eager. I eased the shorts down over his hips to his thighs and glanced at the door, expecting someone to barge through it the moment I crossed the line into inappropriate territory. But the door remained shut and if Edward said Alice was keeping an eye out, I knew her clever brain would come up with a way make sure that no one disturbed us.

His cock was as nice as I'd imagined, and my hand eagerly moved to it. I grasped him at the base, the massage oil allowing him to slide fluidly through my fist. A low, ragged moan tore from his throat and I firmly squeezed him on the down stroke. He was incredibly responsive to my touch and every twist of my wrist around the shaft and swipe of my thumb over the head made him whimper and cry out. I was torn between wanting to stare at my hand wrapped around his cock and wanting to watch his face for the reactions to my touch.

I took a moment to concentrate on the long, beautiful lines of his cock, and the soft, short brown hair at the base. His thighs trembled with every stroke and I felt my own cock throb at the way his hips lifted with the motion of my hand. His skin was hot and silky, and I wanted to trace my tongue along the veins that ran up his shaft.

I went weak in the knees when I focused on his face. His head arched back and exposed the long line of his throat. Rough stubble capped his firm jaw, and his parted lips showed the white of his teeth against the soft pink of his tongue. God, it did something to me; twisted something in my belly and chest. I sped up, the long, fluid strokes becoming shorter, tighter. His chest heaved as his body thrashed on the table, his muscles all clenching before he let out a long, low moan. I watched him greedily, soaking up the sight of him in ecstasy. He came hard, come arcing up and hitting his belly and chest, covering my hand. I slowly brought him down with easy, relaxed strokes, but it took a long time for him to stop twitching and shaking under me.

When he opened his eyes, the tight, miserable look he'd been sporting since I met him was gone. They were soft and warm; grateful. The grim, grey pallor of pain was gone too, and his flushed cheeks and sleepy grin made my heart pound. I had done that for him; given him a few moments of uninterrupted bliss. His hand reached for mine, cupping it where it wrapped around his spent cock.

"Thank you, Jasper." His voice was no longer hoarse, but soft and liquid-y, slithering over my body like warm honey. "I can't tell you how much I needed that."

"You're welcome," I whispered, staggered by everything that had just happened. And so turned on I could cry. Even the tiniest movement made the fabric of my boxer briefs drag across the sensitive tip of my cock. I gritted my teeth and gently let him go. His hand fell onto his stomach and he closed his eyes. I could see the relief in every inch of his body. Knowing I'd given him that made it worth whatever agony I was feeling. I washed my hands and gently cleaned him up. His eyes lazily opened as I tugged his shorts up over his hips and he lifted to help me.

His eyes came to rest on the outline of my straining erection. "You look like you could use some help there."

It was so odd to hear Edward teasing me, rather than being too wrapped up in his pain to concentrate on anything else. I found myself smiling at him despite the discomfort I was experiencing. "I'll survive."

"What if I want to help?" he asked, and my heart sped up in my chest but I shook my head no immediately.

"I'd like that. But I can't. What I did to you was inappropriate enough, but at least I can justify it that it was therapeutic." I gave him a wry grin. "I just can't bring myself to do anything else."

"You look like you're in agony," he said.

I chuckled ruefully. "Probably never been more turned on in my life, actually, but it won't kill me."

"Is there someone you'll go home to, someone who will relieve the ache for you?" he asked. His words reminded me of the questions I'd asked him before. The questions that had started all of this.

"No, I'm single and things just ended with a guy I was seeing casually."

The look in his eyes was heavy, and full of promise at my reply. I wasn't horribly upset about not seeing Riley anymore. Things had been cooling between us for weeks. A part of me wondered if my attraction to Edward had clouded my ability to focus on Riley, but then again, we hadn't been headed toward any great romance before Edward appeared either.

Edward regarded me for a moment before speaking. "What if I just watch you?"

"Watch me do what?"

"Get yourself off."

I closed my eyes, so tempted to give in. A quiet rap on the door made my eyes fly open and a moment later Alice's head peeked around the door. Her face fell as she saw Edward and I both fully dressed and feet apart. No doubt the little pervert was hoping for a glimpse of something naughty. She slipped inside the room and closed the door.

"You're fifteen minutes over time. It's not unusual for a patient to fall asleep on the table, but much longer than that and you'll be pushing it. Hope it was worth it, though." She winked at Edward, who had slowly moved into a sitting position on the table. I was leaning against the counter by the sink and her eyes roamed over me, taking note of the erection that hadn't diminished at all.

"Have fun jerking off tonight, Jasper." With that parting shot, she was out the door. I ground my teeth together in frustration, but I was glad that she had interrupted us. Much as I wanted to get off with Edward watching, things had gone far enough.

I took a deep breath, splashed water on my face, and dried it while Edward dressed. I was still leaning against the counter, doing everything I could to will the arousal away, when he came up behind me. His breath was hot against my neck and I could feel his body inches from mine. His fingers wrapped around my hip as he leaned forward to speak in my ear. "I feel so good now, Jasper. Hold on to that, and don't let yourself feel guilty about this. What you did for me was something I desperately needed."

"Good," I said, my voice surprisingly sure despite the ache in my body. The tone of Edward's voice made me want to sink back against him; let our bodies find comfort in each other. I was starting to realize that my feelings for him ran deeper than the flush of sexual desire and the urge to help a patient cope with his pain.

I hated when he stepped away and went over to the door, and when I heard it open, I didn't turn to look. My head was a mess, thoughts racing through my mind faster than I could grab on to them.

He spoke in the doorway. "I'm a two now, Jasper. That's so low I can barely tell the pain is even there. It's the best I've felt in half a year. Remember that."

I went home that night and spent hours with my fist around my cock, picturing Edward sitting across the room from me. I hurt when I was done, but the aching desire for him hadn't let up at all. I dreaded facing him at the following appointment and even Alice's teasing about what had happened failed to make me smile. She was in complete raptures about what we'd done, and pooh-poohed my fears about it.

"No one needs to know, and believe me; the man was practically floating when he left your room. It made a huge difference to him. I'm not saying it's going to solve anything long term, but you made him feel human and that's nothing to scoff at. I'm not suggesting you fuck him at work or anything, just don't beat yourself up over what happened."

She was right, of course, but my guilty conscience and strong worth ethic put up a good fight.

I tried to remain cool and professional when he walked in the door for his next massage, but I found myself searching for signs that he didn't regret what had happened the time before. He didn't. It only took a quick glimpse of him to catch the eager way his eyes met mine and the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. His headache was by no means gone, but the haunted look that had dogged him was.

He came forward, stopping just a few inches from me and his hand reached up to touch my face. I shied back instinctively, and saw the hurt look in his eyes.

"Edward…" My voice was reluctant even to my own ears. The pull I felt toward him made me want to reconsider, but I knew we couldn't repeat what had happened the time before.

He sighed. "I know. It was a one-time thing."

I nodded. "Not because I don't want to continue. I just can't."

"You aren't fobbing me off on some other massage therapist though, are you?"

I shook my head no. I might be able to deny myself from touching Edward sexually but the thought of not seeing him again, and not helping him cope with his pain was unthinkable.

"Good." He stripped out of his shirt and kicked his shoes and socks off before lying face down on the table.

"You said the pain level was a two when you left last time. How long did it last and what was it after?"

"It lasted until the morning. And it was a five when I woke up."

"Excellent," I said. "Where have you been the last few days?"

"Hovering between five and seven. It fluctuates like always, but overall it's lower than it has been."

I began his massage, stroking his shoulders lightly at first. "I'm glad, Edward. I want you to know that although I'm conflicted about what happened, it makes me very happy to know that you are feeling better. If nothing else, it was worth that."

He grunted in agreement and we were both quiet for the rest of his massage. Even his moans of pleasure were far more muted than usual. Things were strictly professional, but I found myself missing the way sexual tension usually suffused the room. He thanked me quietly after the session was over, and left without another word.

I spent the weekend moping and drinking with Alice. She let me vent, and offered her narrow shoulder to cry on. I didn't take her up on it, but it was nice to know that she was always there when I needed her.

To my surprise, on Monday, Dr. Harper called the team together. I fidgeted in my chair, freaking out that he'd call me out for my inappropriate behavior. Instead, he sat us down to discuss Edward's case.

Dr. Harper was nice guy in his mid-fifties, and I knew how personally he took every single case we had. It broke his heart when he couldn't help someone or they became dependent on the drugs meant to manage the pain.

"Dig in people," he said. He tossed a bag of bagels and couple of tubs of cream cheese on the table, and began speaking after we finished fighting over who got what flavor.

"I want to discuss our patient, Edward Cullen, today. His migraines have improved, especially since Jasper has been working on him and I'm taking that as a positive sign."

He grinned and I smiled half-heartedly, trying to keep the guilty look off my face as he continued. "As you know, migraines are one of our toughest issues around here. Migraine patients are often frustrated with the fact that we can't pin down one particular cause for their headaches. We've tried a number of different treatments for Mr. Cullen and are reaching the end of our options. I've been doing a lot of research into CSF leaks, and based on his symptoms, I have reason to believe that it may be what he's suffering from."

I waved my hand to stop him when he looked like he might continue. "Wait a minute, a Cerebral Spinal Fluid leak, how would that even happen?"

Dr. Harper shrugged. "There seem to be a number of patients who have an unexplained rip in the dura, the membrane surrounding the brain and spinal column. Whether because of an innate weakness or because of trauma, we may never know. What we do know is that research shows that a blood patch can often relieve or even eliminate the headaches caused by the decrease in spinal fluid. Obviously, I will sit down and discuss the procedure with the patient, there are some minor risks involved, but I have high hopes that it will be the most efficacious way of treating him."

Several people spoke up at once and he quieted them. "Alice, we'll cut out PT. I would like to see him continue with you, Bella, and with you, Jasper. At least until we've done the procedure and we see if it works. It could potentially require more than one treatment. We may even have to move forward with surgery, if the blood patches don't work. But I don't want to even consider that until we try the first one."

Bella spoke up. She was in her early thirties, and quite beautiful, although she often came across as brusque. Those of us who knew her personally knew that she was unendingly dedicated to her job and her patients though. She pushed her dark brown ponytail over her shoulder and sat back in the chair. "I think this couldn't come at a better time. Although I've seen improvement in Edward recently, overall, it is wearing on him. He's been quite stoic, and has shown remarkable restraint in his usage of the cocktail of medications he's on. I've been keeping a close eye on him but I'd like to wean him off as soon as possible. Long-term use of any of the drugs is hard on the body and mind, and I believe he'll be better off going off of the meds."

Dr. Harper nodded his agreement. "If everyone is on board, I'll call him and have him come in early tomorrow, to discuss his options. Jasper, you'll see him after. Bella, please continue with your session on Thursday before his massage, and we'll hopefully be able to schedule the procedure for some time in the next few weeks."

After the meeting broke up, I went to my room to wait for incoming patients. I spent my time thinking about Edward as the day went on, although I did my best to give my patients the attention they needed. When I went home that night I Googled CFS fluid leakage and blood patches. I'd vaguely heard about them before, and although I understood the basic mechanics of how the spinal column and spinal fluid worked, I wanted to know more about how the blood patch would treat it.

With a bit of research, I was able to grasp was that it was a procedure where the patient's own blood was injected into their spine. The blood traveled through the spinal cord, found the rupture in the dura, and clotted the rupture. Success would immediately be determined after the procedure. If it wasn't successful, the procedure could be repeated several times with a larger amount of blood injected. In many cases, the treatment led to the permanent closing of the torn dura, which would completely cure him of his migraines. I was glad to read that the risks were minimal and that in all likelihood it would only take one session.

As I fell asleep that night, I started to wonder why I was so personally invested in Edward's treatment. Of course, I cared about all of my patients, but I'd never been this consumed by worrying about one before.

Edward didn't talk much at our session the following day, and he didn't want to discuss the procedure. He wasn't cold or distant, exactly, just distracted. He gave me a half-hearted smile when he left, and although he was slightly more talkative at the Thursday session, he wasn't himself either. He'd agreed to the blood patch procedure, and it was scheduled for the following week.

Unfortunately, I was no closer to understanding my concern over Edward. Obviously, I was developing feelings for him, but I wasn't sure if it was because I'd blurred the lines between therapist and client, or if it was just him. To be honest, I knew very little about Edward. We were roughly the same age, he was a writer, and apparently a fairly successful one. Beyond that though? Everything was based on physical attraction. Physical attraction wasn't a bad place to start, but it didn't explain the depth of my feelings. Then again, seeing a patient at their most vulnerable created an intimacy that we never would have experienced otherwise. I had seen him in the depths of his pain and helped relieve that for him. Of course I was feeling something for him. It was the very reason that relationships were frowned upon under circumstances like ours.

Maybe the feelings weren't even genuine, just a byproduct of a grateful patient and a massage therapist who had gotten too close.

I spent the remaining week twisted up in knots over him but was no closer to reaching a conclusion about my feelings by the time his procedure rolled around. It was scheduled for late afternoon, and with a holiday weekend coming up, we had few patients. I was done for the day, but I dawdled, unable to leave until I knew how it had gone. I saw a brief glimpse of Edward as he came in, looking apprehensive but hopeful. He gave me a wave as he passed by and I mouthed 'good luck' to him. What I wanted was to pull him into my arms and hold his hand during the procedure. Needle going into his spine aside, it wasn't a major risk, but I still worried. Still wanted to be the one there to comfort him. Instead, a lovely middle-aged woman I assumed was his mother accompanied him. It helped a little to know he had someone there with him who cared.

It was an hour and a half procedure, most of which was paperwork, prep before, and recovery after. The injection of blood took very little time itself. I was long done with my paperwork for the day, and Alice and I were both sitting in the small waiting area when Dr. Harper finished with him. He came over, just as Bella came in to join us. Dr. Harper's grin was broad and amused. "Let me guess, you all want to know how it went with Edward?"

We all nodded, I more sheepishly than the others, because I felt like I had something to hide. Alice and Bella's concerns truly were professional, mine far less so.

"I'm glad to see I have such a dedicated staff here." He chuckled. "No, I know how you feel, I've taken a real personal interest in this case and I'm very eager to see how he responds. The procedure itself went flawlessly. He needs to rest for another half an hour, but once we get him upright, we'll have a good idea if it worked. A lot of patients feel immediate relief and the remaining pain disappears within the next few hours. Feel free to stick around, I'm sure Mr. Cullen appreciates the support."

We all nodded, looking like a silly set of bobble heads. Dr. Harper disappeared and the three of us talked quietly.

"What is it about him?" Alice said. "I don't usually get this invested in patients, but I really want him to get relief."

Bella smiled. "He's an unusual man. We could all see how deeply it was wearing on him, and it's not hard to want to make that go away. I felt helpless every time he left my office and I hadn't found a better way to help him cope."

I remained quiet; surprisingly hurt to realize that perhaps I wasn't the only one who had grown attached to Edward. He inspired it in people. Even the two women who were happily in relationships had strong feelings about him. I was just the only one who'd let my feelings go too far.

Alice and Bella shot each other looks when they noticed how withdrawn I was; I played with my phone as I waited for the results of Edward's procedure, my heart aching in my chest.

I nearly cried when Edward walked out of the procedure room. There was a spring in his step, a sparkle in his eyes and a grin that stretched from ear to ear. Alice bounded over and carefully hugged him.

"It worked, didn't it?"

"It did." Edward was practically glowing with relief and his mother had a nearly identical look of pleasure on her face.

"I'm at a two." His eyes briefly flicked up to meet mine, and I remembered the only other time he'd had that much relief. "And it seems to be rapidly diminishing. I think it worked."

"I'm so happy for you," Alice squealed. He chuckled warmly, hugging her back, and right then I could see the real Edward. The one his friends and family had always known. The grey, grim man I'd encountered in the last few months was nothing at all like him. I didn't know Edward at all.

I pushed aside the sick, queasy feeling I had. I watched Bella hug him, her normally stiff exterior melting away as she congratulated him and told him how glad she was that he'd no longer need to come to her for therapy sessions.

When it was my turn, I plastered an unnatural smile on my face and told him how pleased I was. He leaned in for a hug and I wanted to cry when his strong arms slipped around mine and his lips grazed my ear.

"Thank you for everything, Jasper," he whispered.

I nodded stiffly and patted him on the back. His ecstatic smile slipped as he drew back, replaced by a look of confusion. I wondered if I imagined the way he seemed reluctant to pull back from me. But all too soon, he was gone, shaking Dr. Harper's hand and thanking him profusely. His mother wiped away tears and the three of them went to the door. I caught one last glimpse of Edward's face as he walked away, memorizing the relief in his eyes and the relaxed way he moved.

I left work and shut myself up in my apartment for the weekend, even ignoring Alice's increasingly worried phone calls. I felt no less lost and conflicted on Monday, and slogged through my caseload, massaging patient after patient in a daze.

I'd begged Alice to give me a few more days before I talked everything through with her, and although she was reluctant, she gave me my space. As I left work that Monday night, I was thinking about the six-pack of beer in my fridge and spending the evening wallowing in my misery.

I didn't expect to see a smiling Edward Cullen leaning against the low, brick wall outside the building. I stopped abruptly, the door banging shut behind me as it slipped from my fingers.

"What are you doing here, Edward?" I asked, my eyes drinking in the sight of his long, lean body dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and flannel. He was a thousand times more beautiful than I'd ever seen him. The last of the pain was gone and it gave his face an open, joyous quality that made him look luminous in the fading evening light. Sunlight tinged his hair red and his eyes were still deep, but now they were warm and soft. His lips curved into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He looked healthy and happy, nothing like the man I'd had on my table for the last few months.

Instead of answering, he stepped forward, pressing against me. He took my face in his hands and dropped his lips to mine. I'd been dying for a kiss from him for months and his lips were even better than I'd dreamed. Soft and yielding against mine, they kissed me firmly, knowingly. It was like he'd kissed me a thousand times before. He knew exactly the right angle, the amount of pressure I liked. His tongue reached for mine just as mine searched for his. His arms possessively embraced me and I grew light-headed from the feeling of his nearness and the light, clean scent of his body.

We only drew apart when I could feel the hardness between our bodies, arousal making itself known in the form of two hard cocks, nestled against each other. Edward's arms didn't let go of me, he merely pulled his head back and breathed against my lips. His hair was mussed from my hands and one of his was wrapped around the base of my neck. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were red and slightly swollen.

"That's what I'm doing here, Jasper."

"I don't understand," I said hoarsely.

He grinned happily at me and the sight of those beautiful eyes, sparkling and alive, made me weak in the knees. "I'm here for you. I'm not a patient anymore, I'm not in pain. I don't need you as my massage therapist. I am, however, dying to have those hands all over me. I want you, Jasper. I want to take you on a date, I want to kiss the ever loving shit out of you, and I want you in my life."

My heart thundered in my chest at the unabashed romanticism of his statement. In all of the erotic scenarios I had dreamed up about Edward, this had never crossed my mind. I whispered an eager 'yes' against his lips and pulled him close. As our bodies met and our lips opened to taste each other I wanted to freeze the moment in time, to remember the very second I fell for Edward Cullen.

* * *

Notes: I'd love to hear what you think of my first foray into slash!


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